When Is­rael, freed from Pha­raoh’s hand
Left the proud ty­rant and his land,
The tribes with cheer­ful hom­age own
Their king, and Ju­dah was His throne.

Across the deep their jour­ney lay;
The deep di­vides to make them way;
Jordan be­held their march, and fled
With back­ward cur­rent to his head.

The mount­ains shook like fright­ed sheep,
Like lambs the little hil­locks leap;
Not Si­nai on her base could stand,
Conscious of so­ver­eign power at hand.

What pow­er could make the deep di­vide?
Make Jor­dan back­ward roll his tide?
Why did ye leap, ye lit­tle hills?
And whence the fright that Si­nai feels?

Let ev­ery mount­ain, ev­ery flood,
Retire and know th’ap­proach­ing God,
The King of Is­rael: see Him here;
Tremble, thou earth, adore and fear.

He thun­ders, and all na­ture mourns;
The rock to stand­ing pools He turns;
Flints spring with fount­ains at His word,
And fires and seas con­fess the Lord.